


Of Toast and Tea

by XxOngakuxX



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Rosie, Mentions of grandkids, Old!John, Old!Sherlock, One Shot, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 01:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxOngakuxX/pseuds/XxOngakuxX
Summary: A peak into the early mornings of John and Sherlock long after their case work has ended and their bodies lowly grow old. Just pure domestic fluff. Mentions of Rosie and unnamed grandkids.





	Of Toast and Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Just some fluff I couldn't get out of my head. Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy!

It was the sound of the birds outside his window and the sun peaking through the curtains that brought John back from the dark abyss of sleep. It had been a restful night, but even so, his body felt sore and tired. He reached his arm up, letting out a slight groan at the protest of his muscles, and rubbed at his eyes to get the last of the sleep out.

He slowly pushed himself up and swung his feet over the side of the bed, properly feeling the soreness in his back, shoulders, and legs. Nothing to be done about it now, though. Truth be told, he wouldn’t take back yesterday for the world. Were he to have the chance to do it again, he was sure he would. 

John yawned, and blindly reached over to the night stand where he found a glass of water and his morning pills. The sight gave him a small smile, picking them up and quickly downing the lot of them with the water. He slipped his feet into his slippers prepared for him at the edge of the bed and attempted to get up. It took him a few tries before he could properly get onto his feet, but soon enough he was shuffling towards the door to the bedroom. He pulled the robe off the back of the door and pulled it tight around him as he continued his way towards the kitchen. 

He heard the sounds of someone puttering about in the kitchen, the smell of food and the sound of the kettle following him out into the hallway. He must have slept in for sure then. He usually didn’t sleep in, but it seemed as of late, he was the one waking up later. Not that he had any complaints of waking up to breakfast made for him, but sometimes it was a bit lonely to wake up in bed by oneself. 

“Good morning,” John said through another yawn as he came into the kitchen to find Sherlock making two cups of tea and plating some of their egg white omelet. 

“Ah, perfect timing as always, John. I was just about to come wake you.” Sherlock gave him a smile as he turned around, two cups of tea in his hands. He carefully walked over to the table and place them across from one another, one in each spot. 

“Did you see your medication?” He asked, going back to get their plates and silverware while John sat down on his side of the table. 

“I did, ta. Did you take yours?” John asked, blowing on his tea just a bit before taking a tentative sip. Obviously it was far too hot, but nothing quite beat a warm cup of tea first thing in the morning. 

“Yes. I took them this morning when I woke up.” Sherlock set the plate before John and than on his own side, sliding into his chair and already reaching for the jar of honey in between them. 

“You were right, you know. I pushed myself a bit too hard yesterday,” John said, using his fork to cut off a piece of the omelet and shove it into his mouth. “Should have paced myself a bit better than I did. I’m not forty anymore.” 

The grandkids had come down for a surprise visit yesterday and, of course, John was going to chase and carry, and play with them. Nothing would stop him from spending that sort of time with them. If becoming a grandpa had taught him anything, it was that time flew by so quickly in the blink of an eye. Felt like just yesterday he was chasing his little Rosie around their old flat back in London. 

Now? Now he was chasing the boys about, listening to them laugh and giggle as he tried to catch them. Sherlock usually watched from the porch, holding onto their granddaughter and talking to Rosie about what was going on lately in her life and how things were going. 

There was always the showing of art and their marks on tests. Sherlock, of course, made the biggest fuss over how smart and brilliant each was and proudly displayed everything on the fridge and walls, replacing the older ones with the new ones. He put each into their own binders of art and papers. They had stayed for tea and toast, trying Pap pap’s new honey from the bees they kept, and talking about their new favorite shows and things. 

They left when it was starting to get dark with hugs, kisses, and promises of visiting again real soon. John was sure they would. They tried to make it once a week to see them and those were always the best days of John’s week. Sherlock’s too, he could tell. 

“That your newest batch?” John asked, watching as Sherlock smeared the brownish honey all over his toast before taking a bite of it. 

“Last year’s actually,” he said around the bite in his mouth. All these years and the man still had no manners. 

John hummed at that, listening with half an ear at Sherlock talking about the different notes and subtle flavors in this batch compared to this year’s batch and how one could tell the difference just from sight alone. It wasn’t the first time this conversation had happened and wouldn't it be the last, but John didn’t mind. He always loved listening to Sherlock talk. He would never grow tired of the sound of his voice. 

John was sure, after this, would be them cleaning up breakfast, Sherlock asking if he minded if they went to visit on the bees today to make sure they were doing okay, and afterwards he’d say since they were out, could they possibly visit the neighbors as well? John, of course, would agree and watch as Sherlock played with the new litter of puppies the breeders had and once he was far too tired to play anymore, they would find their way back home. John would set about making tea and they would find themselves on the porch, watching the neighbors and cars go by, sitting in silence with their hands joined between them. 

He couldn’t think of a better way to spend the day.


End file.
